The Bottom Of The Bottle
by MG12CSI16
Summary: She once again found her thoughts lingering in the bottom of another bottle. Sara reflects on her relationship with Grissom. GSR..


A drunk Sara and a little sappy GSR. Review? :)

Slight, slight spoilers for various seasons.

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**The Bottom Of The Bottle**

City lights ignited the congested streets, the colors seeming to melt into each other as Sara downed yet another shot of whiskey. The glass slammed onto the counter, only to be refilled and once again brought to her lips. The liquid slid down her throat with ease as he ignored the burn accompanying it.

Her head drooped slighty, her wedding ring coming into view. The simple gold band surrounded her small finger, gleaming ever so slightly in the dim light coming from the lamps overhead. What she did to deserve it, well even she didn't know. A small, drunken smile crept onto her face when she thought of her husband, thousands of miles away.

Sara always felt slightly confused when she thought of her marriage, the monthly visits and the webcam conversations. A normal couple would never last the way they had. But, then again, they weren't a normal couple.

Nobody expected them to be together, pitying her when she was turned down countless times. She remembered Catherine telling her it wasn't worth it, that the man was already married to his work. And he was. But Sara Sidle was a stubborn woman, and she was determined to get what she wanted. The chemistry was instant, their minds seeming to be in synch with one another.

She remembered studying him constantly, trying to figure out what exactly made him tick. The first time he opened up to her she had never felt so overjoyed. When she told him about her family, she had never cried so hard.

The first time his hand reached for hers, her heart had stopped. His warm, rough skin on hers was a feeling she would never forget. The first time they kissed, she felt herself melt into his embrace.

The first time they made love, she had never felt so alive. They had taken the time to discover each other, lips and hands covering every inch of skin, every scar, every story permanently etched onto their bodies.

When he proposed to her she almost ran away. Although her answer was immediate, it was almost regretted. Of course she loved him but the idea of creating something she had seen crumble so many times before terrified her.

Only when she looked into those blue orbs, feeling the love radiate from his body and his words, was she absolutely sure that this is what she wanted. Walking down that hallway, the taste of his lips still lingering on her own, was the hardest decision she ever made. It was also the best.

In her opinion, she didn't deserve Grissom, even though she wanted him so. It only seemed fair that she spare him from seeing her crumble, not leave him the burden of picking up the broken pieces of her life. So she left. She traveled the world, discovering a new part of herself with every step she took. She mailed postcards and called, just to let him know she didn't forget.

And then she got that awful call. Warrick being dead seemed like a nightmare, but one she would surely be able to wake up from. But when she walked back into the lab, the sorrow and tension was almost suffocating. And she realized it wasn't.

Seeing Grissom was no better, the broken and bloody man in front of her could not be him. He was strong, in control of his emotions, seemingly unbreakable. This man was none of those things, he was empty, seemingly dead. So she held him close, whispering comforting words in his eat as he clung to her for dear life.

"It's alright, I'm not going anywhere." What a lie that turned out to be. It wasn't all her fault though, and it wasn't his either. He tried to love her, tried to love in a world that proved to be as cruel as they say.

Niether of them were strong enough to handle it so they broke. Snapping under the weight of the heartbreak and the struggle that comes with being in love. Sara had managed to bury herself in her travels while Grissom stayed in Vegas, surrounded by the death and disaster that had managed to tear them apart.

So when she turned around around and saw him in that jungle she couldn't stop the tears. He had left everything he had built to be with her. Now she was the one he stayed up late for, the one he devoted all his time to.

Their wedding came in June, the white sand beneath her feet and the crystal water stretched in front of them. He fell in love with her dress, the white satin clinging to her curves and flaring at the waist.

She walked down the aisle, tears pricking her eyes as she watched him in his classic tux. When his hand reached out for hers she found herself back in her apartment, his comforting words being whispered in her ear as her body was racked with sobs. This time though, her tears were happy, thankful even. Thankful she had a man that cherished her the way she had always craved it.

He took her to Paris on their honeymoon, making love to her as the rain beat down outside their hotel. A month later they came home, settling into his town house together.

Then he took that first teaching job. She was happy of course that he found something to occupy him, and lucky for her it was close to home. But then he got restless, tired of sitting in the same city and not able to work. When he announced the idea of going overseas she thought he was crazy. She was angry, asking how he could just leave her their on her own.

When she saw the longing in his eyes she had a change of heart, deciding maybe it would be good for the both of them. That didn't stop her from crying though. She must have looked ridiculous, clinging to his shirt while tears stained the fabric in the middle of the airport.

She could only imagine the guilt he was feeling, leaving his healing wife at home to deal with her problems on her own. It was only then that she decided to go back to CSI, bury herself in work just like he had. The welcome was warm and soon she fell back into the swing of things. Greg proved to be good company, watching movies and going to dinner with her. Catherine even managed to drag her along on a shopping trip once.

Slowly she felt herself pining for Grissom, longing for the feel of his skin against hers. She missed his arms wrapping around his waist in the middle of the night, the feathery kisses he would place down the back of her neck.

When he came home that summer she ran to him, their bodies smashing into each other with such force it almost knocked them to the ground. He carried her into their bedroom, slowly removing their clothes and sending them to a pile on the floor.

His hands roamed her body as if it were a foreign land. She let out small gasps and moans, finger nails digging into his shoulders as he attempted to rediscover her. When they both reached a climax they held onto each other, Saras legs wrapped tightly around his waist as a loud moan escaped his lips and his name tore from her throat. She slept soundly in his arms that night, no nightmares or visions plaguing her mind, no whimpers or screams filling the air.

So when he went back she fell into a depression, withdrawn and quiet. Greg tried to let himself in, help her become the happy person he knew so well, but nothing was helping. It went on like this for another two years, leading her to the position she was in now.

Sara stood up and placed some bills on the table, taking one last swig from her beer and stumbling out the door. She took the short walk back to the townhouse, mind spinning rapidly. Walking up the concrete steps she noticed the light shining in the window. Had she left it on?

She was to drunk to remember so instead she put the key in the door and pushed it open. Inside she could hear the water running, her eyes landing on the leather suitcase tucked in the corner.

Butterflies let loose in her stomach a she awkwardly ran into their bedroom on wobbly legs. She froze when she saw him their, hair damp and curly with a towel wrapped around her waist. He smiled warmly at her, slipping his glasses into his face.

"There you are, I was getting worried." Much to his surprise she started laughing, the laughter soon faded into sobs, hot tears pouring down her cheeks. A hand moved up to cover her face, the choked gasps escaping her parted lips. He moved forward, worry staining his aging face.

"Honey, what's wrong?" he reached out and pulled her into a hug, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"I'm just, so happy to see you," she gasped, hiccuping slightly. Grissom could smell the alcohol staining her breath and clothing, his worry intensifying as he held her tighter.

"It's ok, I'm here now. Shhh," he cooed in her ear, breathing in the sweet scent if her skin. When her body stopped shaking she pulled back and rubbed her red, swollen eyes.

"I'm sorry, it's been a hard day," she confessed, shrugging off her jacket. Grissom took it from her and layed it across the chair in the corner. Taking her hand he led her to the bed, slipping on a pair of boxers before laying down beside her.

"Why don't you tell me about it."


End file.
